To Forgive, and To Forget
by Wolf and Phoenix
Summary: Jane is plagued by feelings and thoughts of guilt, and her heart and brain are warring with each other, especially one particular question: Is it possible to forgive someone, when they don't remember themselves? Takes place right after 1x10.
1. Chapter 1 - Can You Forgive Me?

**A/N: Hey. So I've been incredibly busy recently, more so than before break, so writing fics have become difficult. I actually really wanted to write a holiday fic, which might be posted later this week *fingers crossed*. Hopefully this all settles down later this week, so I can write more and… continue Sacrifice's Bird. (I lost the words there.) Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. Just borrowing their characters and messing around with them.**

Can you forgive someone who forgot themselves? Forgive them, but forget what they were before?

Jane has asked herself those two questions over and over in her head ever since she had managed to sneak back into the safe house. And while her mind still reeled from pure overload of information (learning that your own self had erased your own memories on purpose took a long time to process), it was still able to ask these contradicting questions, able to destroy her feeling of stability and security.

Who would want to look her in the eye now, especially Weller, if they learned about Oscar? Worse, what if they learned about her former self?

Jane curls into a tighter ball on her couch as she lets her storm of thoughts plague her, taunt her. She's been curled up all night, at first shivering with cold, then shuddering with fear. What if Weller came in and found her in this state? What if he found out the truth? What if he kicked her off the team? Jane can't bear that last thought.

Her phone rings for the fourth time, cutting through the silence of her safe house like a hot knife through butter. And like all the others tonight, the call goes to voicemail.

"Jane, if you're home, give me a call. I need to know you're okay, or I'm heading over there myself."

Jane breathes out a shaky sigh. She knows that he'll come over anyway, even if she calls him back, because he can read her like a book. He'll know something's wrong if her voice is shaky, quivering.

So she doesn't call him back. Simply stares at her collage of sketched tattoos, her viridian eyes dull and empty.

She briefly wonders whether Patterson felt this way when she lost David. _But she wouldn't have lost David if you hadn't shown up, with these tattoos all over you,_ she berates herself _. She's mourning him, missing him, because it was all your idea. Your orders._

She flashes back to that one line that had pulled the floor out right under her feet.

" _You did this to yourself."_

Oh how she wished that it had been different. But deep down, she knew, that even if she hadn't been the mastermind behind her tattoos, even if she hadn't ordered Oscar to do whatever her former self had ordered him to do, Jane would still feel guilty for David's death. She would still feel responsible, because of these tattoos.

 _But it wasn't your fault!_ Her rational side (or rather, her brain) argues.

 _Yeah, it was,_ her heart answers. _Because where would David be if these tattoos didn't exist? Definitely not six feet underground._

Jane wonders if this is normal, to have a conversation between your heart and your brain. She brushes that thought off, agreeing with Tasha's statement that nothing about her was ever normal. So, despite her feelings of insanity, her brain replies to her heart.

 _Patterson doesn't blame you. Kurt doesn't blame you. Tasha doesn't blame you. Reade doesn't, either. They all accepted that their jobs and this case particularly came with risks,_ her brain reasons.

 _That doesn't make it any less my fault. Yes, my current self didn't do anything, and I can't control what these tattoos do, but my past self had planned this. So, whether or not my past self and my current self are different, it's still my fault! Because my past self is still me!_ Her heart desperately cries out.

 _Would you say that if you told Kurt about all this? If he felt betrayed, would you still say this?_ Her brain asks, and Jane and her heart know the answer. Her heart feels defeated, while her brain buzzes with triumph.

 _No, I wouldn't say this._

A sharp knock jolts her out of her thoughts, sends a bolt of sound through her silent surroundings. Jane breathes out slowly, shakily. _Kurt._

She makes no effort to get up, her energy suddenly drained, her legs feeling like jelly. Fear curls like a snake in her stomach, causing her head to spin. What was she going to say when he steps through the door? _Sorry, but you had been a pawn in my former self's game, and I had nothing to do with it?_

Jane could have laughed at how bad those words sounded in her head, if it were any other day, any other day when she hadn't been kidnapped by a bunch of CIA people and waterboarded, then told that she had been the cause of all of this.

Because then she wouldn't be here. She wouldn't have to face Weller or Patterson or Tasha or Reade. She wouldn't have to feel their feelings of betrayal.

An even sharper knock rips through the silent safe house, more insistent. Jane still makes no effort to get up, afraid of what she would have to tell Weller.

 _Maybe, just maybe, I can avoid telling him at all today. Maybe I can tell him another time, or not at all. Maybe I can just pretend I'm sleeping._

When she hears the lock click open, hears the footsteps of him, hears him calling out her name, she wonders if it's really possible to forgive someone who forgot.

 **A/N: So what'd you think? Likies? No? Any reviews on my writing would be appreciated! :)**


	2. Chapter 2 - Does It Come Down To This?

**A/N: Hey! So I managed to squeeze some time in yesterday to dash off this chapter. Warning: Don't yell at me at the end. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. I'm just borrowing them and messing around with them.**

"Jane?" Weller calls. He's been worried sick about her, not knowing if she had gotten home safely or not. Given that he had just let her _go_ with no one with her after their kiss simply spoke volumes at how objective he was when it came to Jane (in simpler words, he wasn't objective at all). So, if she was kidnapped or anything like that, it would weigh heavily on his shoulders. Because he had let her go.

Little did he know that Jane _had_ been kidnapped - briefly.

"Jane?" He spots something (or someone) curled up in the corner of the couch. He approaches, cautiously, one hand on his gun, a tiny sliver of fear in his chest.

The person curled up shifts, and they raise their head. From the dark hair, cut shockingly short, and the pale skin, he can tell it's Jane. He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief, glad to know she's safe.

But something's not right.

Jane doesn't say anything, doesn't greet him, doesn't even look at him. She just lies there, curled up like a puppy, staring blankly off into space.

"Hey, you alright?" Concern makes itself known in his voice, and he wonders if she regrets sneaking out to meet him. Or, more specifically, kissing him.

Jane doesn't respond. She doesn't make any acknowledgement of having heard him. Just lies there, listlessly staring at the wall. She feels her heart pounding in her chest, feels her brain buzzing, and she wonders if he's going to explode when she tells him about the kidnapping, Carter, Oscar, and most importantly, the video. She herself would probably blow up, break a few things, and feel betrayed. After all, it isn't a small thing, to be wiped of all your memories and then being told that you, yourself, had done it. She wishes that Weller would just go away, leave her alone.

"I'm fine," Jane finally speaks, her voice holding an edge. She makes sure that it's not raspy, or scared, or troubled. Just edgy. Who knows, maybe he'll take the hint and leave.

"Jane?" Weller questions with confusion. He's never heard her voice so edgy. Well, except for that time when she demanded to have a word with someone in charge, but that was different. She was being poked and prodded, and frankly, he agreed with her snapping at the people testing her.

"Kurt, I'm fine," her words cut through his brain, sharper than he had ever heard them.

Weller starts to draw the conclusion that she probably wants to be left alone. It had been a tiring day, anyway. But he can't resist to question her about one thing. Or everything. "What's wrong? Answer that, then I'm going."

Jane sighs quietly with frustration. Damn Weller and his blackmail methods.

 _You just swore,_ her brain mutters.

 _Shut up, I have a reason_ , her heart retorts.

 _Do you? Are you even going to tell him?_

 _Of course I am._

 _No, you're not. You can't tell him, because you're scared of what he'll think of you._

 _You know what, just shut up. I'm the one in control here._

 _In control of what? Feelings and emotions. I'm in control of everything else._

 _I'm going to tell him!_

 _No, you're not. Because you don't want to lose his trust._

 _Does it matter? Does it matter anymore? He'll hate me if I tell him or not, sooner or later. If I don't tell him now, and he finds out later, he'll hate me for not telling him. If I tell him now, he'll hate me for what I did. Don't you see?_ Her heart cries out. _He'll hate me no matter what! He'll hate me because he was and still is a pawn in my former self's game! He'll hate me because he thinks that I'm playing with his feelings! I know Weller, I know how he'll react. So really, do I care about losing his trust? No! Because he'll hate me._

 _So that's your reason?_ Her brain scoffs. _Idiot. He won't hate you. He loves you, don't you see that?_

 _No. Not anymore. Not when he gets his heart ripped out,_ her heart murmurs with certainty, regret and sadness laced in every syllable.

With her heart and her brain warring with each other, Jane feels tears slip down her face with a certainty, like how the connection she and Kurt had was certain to break with her revelation.

She just wonders how long it'll take.

As she starts to open her mouth, preparing to tell him everything, she hears her heart and her brain say something in unison.

 _It comes down to this. He forgives you, regardless that you don't remember, or he forgives you, and forgets who you were before._

She stills, milling the words over in her head.

Making her decision, she finally looks at him, for the last time tonight.

Maybe ever.

 **A/N: And I'm stopping there. I'm sorry, I'm sorry! ...But secretly, I'm not. Cliffies are awesome! Leave a review! :)**


	3. Chapter 3 - I Don't Know You

**A/N: Hi guys! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for taking so long to update! I guess it's because I had this huge writer's block and with everything going on... The hiatus is over and so much has unfolded over the episodes and I just... Anyways, this chapter is a bit short and I don't really like it, but I had to put something up because I didn't want to leave you guys hanging ;) Enjoy!**

 **Oh - panic-at-the-bistro - I do appreciate your comment about the clear dividing line between the two sides! Thanks for bringing it up! There's a reason why they're so obvious, though, and you'll find out soon, hopefully.**

 **Now then...**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot or any of its characters. I'm just borrowing them.**

"I - Uh, I'm just tired," Jane replies, softening her voice. "And the whole chase we just went through wore me out emotionally, I guess." She feels her brain buzz with triumph.

Kurt considers her. Was she telling the truth? He decides to ask her tomorrow, again, because really, it has been a hell of a day. "Okay, Jane. I'll see you in the morning, then." He opens the door and leaves, the door shutting with a decisive click.

Jane watches him go, wishing she wasn't so cowardly. But if she was honest with herself, she didn't want to lose that feeling of stability, the feeling of finally having the floor under her feet. She curls up again, her head resting on the back of the couch, staring at the empty wall, feeling as empty as it looked. She feels her eyes start to fall, feels them fall slowly like molasses, and she thinks that it's another battle she's losing. Maybe it's best to step away honourably, or fight until they all see the truth rearing its head.

She lets her eyes close, as if the darkness that covers her vision would shield her from reality. She's already caused too much damage. She's already resolved not to tell Kurt about it. What hasn't she done?

She feels a small stab of disgust from her brain. Or was it her heart? She couldn't tell anymore. Both were equally broken. Both were the same. What was the point of fighting now, really?

Should she run away? Should she go to work and pretend nothing is wrong? How could she, after learning that she, herself, was the mastermind behind her tattoos and memory wipe? Her brain's leaning toward running away, but her heart (or was it her brain?) tells her to go to work. She's confused, unsure of what to do.

She realizes that Weller would probably continue to question her tomorrow and the days after. Could she really lie? Could she tell him the truth? No, telling him the truth would hurt, because she basically used him in her plan, and she's already too far into whatever plan her former self had devised.

Tears slowly slip down her face, falling from her eyes like waterfalls. Disgusted, her brain shuts itself down, forcing her to go to sleep.

Jane wakes up stiff and cold after being curled up on the couch all night, her alarm upstairs blaring. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she works the kinks out of her shoulders and back before heading upstairs to turn the alarm off and take a shower. She feels numb, unfeeling, as if her brain and her heart have agreed that they needed to shut down. Turning the shower on, hearing the water stream down, she wonders if she should go to work today. Maybe she should stay home.

As she steps into the warm water, she realizes that whatever mission her past self had planned, she couldn't put the team at risk.

 _Yet, if Oscar really had been watching her all along, then whoever he worked with must already have the team in their sights._

She agrees with her brain, feeling so moldable that she could have easily jumped off a cliff if someone had told her to. Numbly, she finishes up in the shower and steps out, glancing in the mirror as she does. She pauses, staring at her reflection in the mirror, looking so much more different than what she did the past few times.

Examining her reflection further, she even thinks that the ink on her skin has gotten darker, more noticeable. A trick of the light, she knows, but she can't help but think that the mission, whatever it is, had solidified her betrayal to the FBI.

 _I don't know you,_ she thinks. _I don't know this person standing in front of the mirror._

Her brain shouts out, _Obviously you're just imagining it! You know you're not any different than a few hours ago._

Mixing in with her brain, her heart cries out, _But you are different! You just found out that you did this to yourself!_

Jane shook her head violently at the argument inside her head. She couldn't tell what her heart said and what her brain said anymore. Peeling her eyes away from the mirror, she gets dressed and thinks about Oscar, about the video, about what she was going to tell Kurt. She scrunches up her face in almost physical pain at the thought of him. How was she going to say that she was leaving him because she had to keep him safe from whatever was going to happen to her?

She didn't know. Just like she couldn't tell the difference between her head and heart anymore, she didn't know what to tell Kurt, either. Maybe, hours ago, maybe she would have known, but now, she was just a shell that was being used to exploit crimes and complete a mission.

 _But hours ago, you wouldn't have this conversation. Hours ago, you wouldn't be having this war with yourself, because you were kissing Weller,_ her brain mumbles.

I don't know myself, she thinks. I don't know this person I am. I don't know who I was, what my motives were, and what my mission is. I don't know any of that, but already I've caused so much damage.

What has she become?

 **A/N: Likies? No? Ah, well, hopefully I can get something better out soon, with exams and all coming up.**


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